


Flora quae floriscit

by Melinaa



Series: The AUs that are kind of AUs but just slightly [2]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Backstory, I will add more tags along the way, Professor Layton And The Curious Village, Robots, St Mystere, but also kinda sad, flora building robots with bruno, flora's backstory, it's kinda cute, kinda an AU? yeah I think so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melinaa/pseuds/Melinaa
Summary: Lat. flora: “Flower”Lat. floriscit; florescere: “starting to bloom”When a flower is deprived of sunlight, does it die? Or does it break free to seek its own light?
Relationships: Augustus Reinhold & Flora Reinhold, Bruno & Flora Reinhold, Dahlia Reinhold & Flora Reinhold, Flora Reinhold & Luke Triton, Hershel Layton & Flora Reinhold, Hershel Layton & Flora Reinhold & Luke Triton
Series: The AUs that are kind of AUs but just slightly [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785874
Comments: 16
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys and welcome to a new fanfic!  
> Since I finished my story "The Cogs of Time" now, I thought it was time to start a new fic because I can't possibly just work on only one story?? So I came up with this ^^  
> It is kind of a backstory of Curious Village. Or how I imagined Flora's life before the Professor and Luke took her in but... with some little twists. Because, honestly, Level 5 could have made so much more out of Flora. So, I'm doing that now ^^  
> I hope you will like this! I wish you the best! 
> 
> Melinaa

_Lat. flora: “Flower”_

_Lat. floriscit; florescere: “starting to bloom”_

“The Flower that starts to Bloom” 

28th July 1966

*

The rain had waited until nightfall to pour onto the village’s roofs. The smell of cold water hitting heated-up cobblestone of the streets was filling Flora’s room. The rain had brought a welcome cooling, and she’d let her window open to let in some fresh air like she had done since she had been very little. She remembered how she would let her window open even during the winter, when it was icy but not yet cold enough for the rain to turn into snow. She remembered how her father would always come into her room and close the window. At last Flora imagined it like that because when she had woken up, the window had been closed.

Tonight, the ten-year-old girl remembered this with tears in her eyes and her lips pressed together so tightly that no one would hear her crying. Not that anyone would ever hear her. Not so many meters above the ground in this tower her father had built. He had told her it was for her so she would be safe if he wasn’t there anymore.

Flora would rather be in danger than up here in this tower, alone, while everyone else was sleeping in the village.

She knew it wasn’t dangerous down there. She knew all the villagers better than they knew themselves. She had seen Bruno make them, had even helped him. She had liked the long days down in the cellar or in the workshop. He had always allowed her to help him when her father had wanted nothing more than get her away from the nails and the hammer and the robots. But Flora had loved it, and her father had shaken his head when he had taken her home, she herself dirty from top to bottom and her dress covered with various stains that would give the domestic workers a hard time trying to clean it up until they would decide that the dress wasn’t to be rescued anymore.

But the only place she had down there was the villa. The villa where Lady Dahlia who looked so much like her mother and was yet so different, lived. Little Flora started to shiver at the thought of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Lady Dahlia. It was just that a shiver ran down Flora’s spine whenever she saw her. It was like her mother was standing in front of her. A sweet illusion until Lady Dahlia opened her mouth and started to speak so differently than her mother. And she always had that cat with her. Flora’s mother had been allergic to cats that’s why they could have never had one. So, Flora had had to stick to stroking the cats that lived in the village and wash her hands very well when she came home. Not that she had been to the village a lot.

Flora turned around. She had lost count how often she’d already done that. She sat up with to look at the clock because she couldn’t see it when she was lying in her bed. After midnight already. Flora swung her legs over the edge of the big bed and to get up. She had everything she needed up here, like in a little house. Well, it even was a house. The little girl loved that. She felt so grown up. She opened the window and laid her head onto her arms on the windowsill. She liked to listen to the rain. She knew the smell, but it was different up here from when she had been in bed in the villa and it had been raining. There, she had smelled the rain on grass, on trees, on earth. Flora couldn’t decide which scent she liked more.

The rain wouldn’t cease. If it stopped raining by morning, Flora knew, it would be a really sunny day. Maybe she could go out a bit. With Ingrid. Maybe she could get some ice cream with her! The little girl’s face that was still covered in tear stains lit up for a moment. They would probably get her ice cream, but she wouldn’t be allowed to go down into the village. Her father had advised everyone to protect her.

Another tear ran down little Flora’s check when she turned away from the rain. She got back into bed where she hid her face in the pillow to cry until she fell asleep.

She hadn’t closed the window. She hoped someone, her father, would come and close it for her.


	2. Rapunzel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Flora, Flora!  
> Let down your hair!”
> 
> And Flora imagined having hair long enough so her Prince Charming could climb up and come to her rescue. Hadn’t her father always said that one day someone brave and strong enough to care for her would come?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!   
> Sorry for the way too long absence. I've been busy with university, writing, you name it... But I haven't abandon the story! You might notice that the chapters are very short, especially for the amounts I usually write. The later chapters might get longer but I don't know this yet. I hope none of you minds. And I hope the shorter chapter will allow me to update a bit more often. But no promises there! If you've read a fic or two of mine, you know I can be very slow with updates bc I'm usually very busy.   
> I hope everyone is ding alright an I hope you all had a merry Christmas and arrived well in the new year. Let's hope 2021 will be better than 2020. 
> 
> Love  
> Melinaa

12th March 1969

*

_  
Rapunzel was the most beautiful child in the world. When she was twelve years old the witch shut her up in a tower in the midst of a wood, and it had neither steps nor door, only a small window above. When the witch wished to be let in, she would stand below and would cry,  
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel!  
Let down your hair!"_

Rapunzel was Flora’s favourite fairy tale. Her father had never been a fan of reading her those stories which he claimed to be too cruel and bizarre for a little girl, but little Flora had learned to read early and would stay up past her bedtime just to read. Many nights, she would sit on her windowsill and let the pages of yet another book be illuminated by the moon’s light – which was always just enough to read for a bit longer than the day before.

But now that everyone was gone Flora had no reason anymore not to just light up the candles in her room or the big light in the middle of the room when she wanted to read at night. Yet she kept sitting on the windowsill, her pages glowing thanks to the light the moon emitted, and dove into other worlds.

She had always liked Grimm’s fairy tales. The stories were nowhere near as bizarre unsettling as her father had claimed them to be. When Ingrid had still been around, she had always helped Flora hiding the big dark-red book she had “borrowed” from their library. Even before she had moved to the Tower, Rapunzel had been Flora’s favourite tale. Nowadays, when she was reading late at night, she often imagined someone standing at the foot of the Tower, so far down, and calling out for her.

“Flora, Flora!   
Let down your hair!”

And Flora imagined having hair long enough so her Prince Charming could climb up and come to her rescue. Hadn’t her father always said that one day someone brave and strong enough to care for her would come?

Sometimes, Flora wondered why she couldn’t care for herself. She was doing great up here.

But then she remembered what her father had said, and that she had many people, like Ingrid and Bruno, come up here every day to cook for her, look after her and spend time with her. And then, Flora found the thought of having to do all of those tasks herself and be lonely all her life so cruel that she wished the day her Prince Charming would climb up the Tower would come sooner.

 _"O Rapunzel, Rapunzel!_  
Let down your hair."  
And she let down her hair, and the King's son climbed up by it. Rapunzel was greatly terrified when she saw that a man had come in to her, for she had never seen one before; but the King's son began speaking so kindly to her, and told how her singing had entered into his heart, so that he could have no peace until he had seen her herself. Then Rapunzel forgot her terror, and when he asked her to take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and beautiful, she thought to herself, "I certainly like him much better than old mother Gothel," and she put her hand into his hand. 

But no matter how often Flora read the story of the girl in the tower, she couldn’t help but wonder why she gave her heart to the first man she met. Flora imagined there must be so many more people, so many things to see and explore. She looked out of the window and over the fields that surrounded her little village. She could see nothing but fields. If she could only look far enough, would she be able to see London? London seemed like a mystery to her. Were London’s people as nice as the people in her little village? It wasn’t that Flora never talked to them. Just, not often.

_She said: "I would willingly go with thee, but I do not know how I shall get out. When thou comest, bring each time a silken rope, and I will make a ladder, and when it is quite ready I will get down by it out of the tower, and thou shalt take me away on thy horse." They agreed that he should come to her every evening, as the old woman came in the day-time._

But Flora loved how innovative and creative and brave the princess was. Flora wished to be like this, too. But she would never dare leave the Tower. She sighed. But how could she ever grow of she never left? Flora was sure the princess could only grow after leaving her tower and Mother Gothel.

Maybe it wasn’t about leaving the Tower but leaving Mother Gothel. Flora felt bad for instantly having to think of Lady Dahlia. She wasn’t bad. She was just… looking like her mother and being nothing like her. And she had that stupid cat. Flora liked dogs more.

Flora put the book away and wrapped her arms around her knees. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she just be happy be happy that she was up here, safe, that Ingrid and Bruno came to be with her and laugh and talk, she had her books and herself and papa’s promise that her Prince Charming would come and rescue her very soon.

But why did she long for so much more?


End file.
